


Number Twenty-Two

by Fantasylands



Category: Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24777115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasylands/pseuds/Fantasylands
Summary: In which Merlin's face and pride suffer a blow.(Post-movie)
Relationships: Prince Merlin/Snow White
Comments: 19
Kudos: 341





	Number Twenty-Two

**Author's Note:**

> Ever write something at 3 AM and then find it the next morning with no memory of how it got there?

The yell tore through the castle, bouncing off wall after marble wall before finding its way to Snow in the library. She unhooked her legs from over the side of the overstuffed armchair she sat in and set her book face-down on the nearby end table. Her tea had already gotten cold anyway, so this was as good a time as any to get up, she supposed. This particular call of distress was one she’d recognize anywhere, and so she padded down the hallways towards the likely epicenter of the disruption.

As she approached, she could hear a string of muffled curses through the door of the makeshift study Merlin had set up. It was really a small storeroom near the kitchen that used to house mostly herbs, but the various shelves and hangings and drying racks had proved useful for Merlin’s magical needs whenever he was staying at the castle, so he had commandeered it for his own purposes. The royal cooks hadn’t been too happy about it at first, but he’d swayed them easily, flashing them his most charming smile and suavely talking his way into making them think he’d done them a favor.

Snow pushed open the heavy wooden door. The room still smelled kind of like rosemary, as usual, but there was also the distinct scent of something burning. Ducking to avoid a particularly low-hanging string of drying talismans, she spotted Merlin. He was facing away from her, standing near the small desk that had been crammed into the space. Its accompanying stool lay sidelong on the floor, as if Merlin had leapt up suddenly.

“Merlin? You all right?” Snow asked, stepping over a few scrolls that appeared to have been knocked to the ground.

“No, I’m not,” came his miserable reply.

Snow took a step towards him and he thrust a hand back, keeping her at bay. “Please, Snow, don’t look at me!”

“Wow, that takes me back,” she laughed. “Look, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine. Come on, turn around and let me see. Please?”

Merlin lowered his guard a bit and Snow moved in closer to rest a reassuring hand on his back.

Begrudgingly, and not without an upset mutter or two under his breath, Merlin turned to face her. Something about him did look... Off. Snow couldn’t quite put her finger on what, but there was definitely something different about him.

Snow gave a puzzled frown. “What am I looking at here?”

“You can be honest with me; it’s awful, I know,” Merlin said, downtrodden. An anguished sigh escaped him. “I’m sorry, Snow, I got really closely focused on drawing up some new lightning spells and one of them accidentally activated and my face was too close and I-” He gave a defeated groan and slumped down into a nearby chair.

“Merlin, I still don’t know what you’re - OH. _Oh._ ” As Snow scrutinized his face, suddenly it had clicked.

Sulkily, Merlin sank lower into the chair and pouted, knitting his eyebrows. Or rather, lack of eyebrows. Snow saw now that his bangs looked a bit frizzled as well.

It took all she had in her not to giggle at the absurdity of the situation and shatter Merlin’s already fragile pride. “That’s what you’re upset about? You singed your eyebrows?”

Merlin glowered at her, though the effect was diminished by his bare brow. “Snow, the wedding is only three weeks away. I wanted everything to be perfect. I can’t look like this on our wedding day. Who knows if they’ll grow back by then?”

A lopsided smile played at the corners of Snow’s mouth. “Who cares? I’m just glad you’re all right. I don’t care what you look like when I marry you. Just as long as I get to marry you.”

From the chair, Merlin crossed his arms across his chest and put on his best semblance of gloom, a deep frown etched across his face. By this time, he had slid so far down into the seat that Snow thought for a moment he might just slide right off of it and down onto the floor.

“You’re a princess, you can’t marry a man with no eyebrows,” he grumbled.

This time, Snow couldn’t hold back an amused laugh at his dramatics. "Watch me. Come on, you of all people know I didn’t agree to marry you just for your looks.” At this, she strode over next to him and seated herself on the arm of the chair. She brushed a bit of slightly singed hair away from his forehead, but he refused to look her in the eye, glaring petulantly at the floor. Snow continued. “It’s not like you’re the first handsome prince to ask for my hand. You might be...” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Twenty-second, I think?”

“Wait, what?” Merlin’s arms uncrossed and he sat up, melancholy facade instantly melting away, replaced with a look of surprise, and maybe a hint of jealousy.

“I mean, yeah,” Snow said, with a shrug. “Being the princess of the White Kingdom has its perks, but it also comes with a line of suitors who only see you as an opportunity for power. They used to come with jewels and gifts and empty declarations of love, and every single one of them was sure I would swoon and accept.”

“And every single one of them was...”

“Wrong, yeah. Obviously.” Snow smiled softly and shifted a bit in her place on the chair's arm. “I didn’t want or need some handsome prince, I always just... Wanted someone to share my life with, you know?”

“So what you’re saying is... You don’t like that I’m handsome? And a prince?” Merlin feigned a hurt look that Snow didn’t believe for a second.

“No, that’s not it,” Snow laughed. “I’m saying... That it doesn’t matter. I love _you_ , Merlin. I love the Merlin that’s afraid of flying. The one who accidentally zaps himself with his own spells. The Merlin who eats carrots without washing them off first. Which is totally gross by the way, and I love that Merlin anyway. And, if it makes you happy, I also love your handsome, handsome smile. And I did from the moment I met you. Yeah, that one.”

“I was green when you met me,” Merlin said through his grin.

“Exactly. I want to be your wife even if your eyebrows never grow back. In fact, I hope they don’t!”

“Shh, Snow, you’ll jinx them!” Merlin reached up to run his fingers over the place where his eyebrows should have been, rolling his eyes upward. “It’s all right, she didn’t mean it,” he cooed.

Snow let out a laugh. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m weird... And _you_ love me,” Merlin teased with narrowed eyes, a sing-song lilt in his voice.

“What? No I don’t,” Snow joked back, shaking her head.

“You just said so. And you’ve said so before,” said Merlin, with a wink.

“Must have been some other princess, I never said that.”

“You did!”

“I said you’re gross and weird, I don’t know where you’re getting the rest of that from.”

“Snow.”

Snow put her hands up in jest. “All right, you got me. I guess I love you.”

“Then I guess I love you too."

Merlin smiled up at Snow, and she leaned down to meet his lips in a kiss. When they pulled apart, Merlin said, smirking, “But seriously, if they don’t grow back I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“ _Merlin._ ”

He grinned and silenced her with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Merlin gives me Howl/Howell Jenkins vibes with his wizardly vanity, so I channeled my best Dianna Wynne Jones, which, sadly, is not very good.


End file.
